O Cherub Content

O Cherub Content! at thy moss-cover'd shrine,I would all the gay hopes of my bosom resign,—I would part with ambition thy votary to be,And breathe not a vow but to friendship and thee.But thy presence appears from my pursuit to fly,Like the gold-colour'd cloud on the verge of the sky;No lustre that hangs on the green willow treeIs so short as the smile of thy favour to me.In the pulse of my heart I have nourish'd a care,That forbids me thy sweet inspiration to share;The noon of my youth slow departing I see,Eut its years as they pass bring no tidings of thee.O Cherub Content! at thy moss-cover'd shrine,I would offer my vows, if Matilda were mine;Could I call her my own whom enraptur'd I see,I would breathe not a vow but to friendship and thee.